Hope
by Rina-the-Brave
Summary: The crazy. The bad. The good. He was like the bird with the broken wings that she'd tried to save when she was seven. This had become a weekly thing. A ritual between them.


**Disclaimer: Well, no. Of course I don't own it.**

**A/N: Okay, I have a story on here that I never finished. Eventually, I will get back to that. A lot of bad stuff happened in the last year and a half and I'm just now getting back into writing. This got stuck in my head so I thought I'd try my hand at a oneshot before continuing my multi. Just to shake out the rust since I haven't written anything in so long. It's super short but I needed to start somewhere.  
**

Some days, she hated him. Okay, no that was lie. But she wanted to. Lisbon wanted to hate Jane. She wanted to not care, to be impassive and just brush it all of but she couldn't. He was imbedded too deep within her soul. Burned into her flesh and seared all the way into bone. He was a part of her. And she wanted to hate that but she couldn't. She loved it.

The crazy. The bad. The good. He was like the bird with the broken wings that she'd tried to save when she was seven. In the end, her attempts were futile and it had died. She really hoped - with every fiber of her being that Jane wouldn't be the same. She didn't want to end up being that same little girl, crying for days and wondering what she did wrong.

After the last several days - hell months - she had a feeling that was exactly what would happen. Everything that had been happening with the Red John case and then the whole bit with him running off to Vegas. She didn't want to think about the rest. The fact that he'd just found a woman and...no, she didn't let her mind go there.

Instead, she let her feet carry her up the stairs with a take out bag in hand - to the attic where he hid. It was hiding. She didn't care what he called it. It wasn't healthy. Her knuckles rapped out a rhythm on the door and she heard him moving around inside. The lock clicked, the metal slid to the side and if she were being honest, the man looked terrible.

His suit was rumpled, hair in complete disarray and he hadn't shaved in a few days. He looked crazed - like a madman hunting for something he'd never find.

"Lisbon."

"I brought dinner." It was late, both of them knew the only reason she'd come back was because she was so worried about him. He made her so angry sometimes and she really should have just thrown the food at him and left but she didn't. "Thought you might be hungry."

He gave her a small tilt of his lips, nothing big. Just grateful and somewhat sad. Despite her best effort, she found herself warming at just the sight of him. His presence was still magnetic.

And she was still helpless to resist. Like a moth to a flame, she let him lead her over to the makeshift cot. They didn't say anything while she separated the food out. This had become a weekly thing. A ritual between them. She'd bring food, they'd eat, and then she'd go home. Sometimes they talked and other times, they didn't say a word.

She waited, not sure what kind of night this one was going to be. He lifted the chopsticks to his mouth, took a bite and she did the same. She used to always leave it up to him - let him be the one to break the silence but no more. She was done with that. If he wanted quiet, he could make her leave because she was so tired of being out in the cold.

"You could've come with us." She meant to dinner. The team had gone but she hadn't ate much because she knew this was where she'd end up. Back at CBI. In an attic, with a tortured soul.

"Didn't feel like it."

"Come home with me." It was out before she thought it through and she knew she wasn't the only one shocked by the words. He hid it better, behind a smarmy smile and suddenly playful eyes.

"Teresa Lisbon, I never."

"I meant you could have the couch. It's got to be better than this thing," She gestured to the uncomfortable contraption they were seated on. "or the motel bed."

"I've no doubt."

"You need to get out of here. You've been up here every spare second of every day."

"This is starting to sound like an intervention." He was grumbling, had turned his attention back to the food. She took the moment to look at him. No shame in her gaze at being caught staring. He looked so tired. The dark circles under his eyes gave it away. His shirt was dirty and wrinkled beneath the vest. She didn't even know where his jacket was but she figured it wasn't in much better shape.

"Does it need to be?" Yes. Her mind supplied the answer immediately. He was slipping.

"No."

"Then come crash on my couch." His eyes met hers, stared long and hard before he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"One condition."

"Okay?"

"We watch one of those terribly cheesy romcom's I know you have." Maybe it was a bad idea to invite him after all. She didn't want him telling anyone about her secret addiction to Romantic Comedies. But no, she didn't regret it and she'd endure his teasing if it meant he was doing something other than constantly thinking - constantly brooding and being trapped in his own mind.

"Deal. I might even have some popcorn."

"Now we're getting fancy." She chuckled for the first time that day and watched as he gave her a genuine smile. This was going far better than their previous little dinner parties. "Thank you, Lisbon."

She knew what he was talking about by the way he dropped his gaze to his food, let his lips set in a thin, serious, line but she let him continue. Didn't say anything because it was so nice to finally hear that she was appreciated.

"For doing this. Being my friend."

"Well, it's a tough job but somebody's gotta do it." She'd rather tease than deal with overwhelming emotions at that moment. Later maybe. But for now, she was content to turn things back to playful. Maybe the shadows would disappear from his eyes. At least for a little bit.

"Saint Teresa."

"Shut up and eat, so we can get out of here."


End file.
